


Meltdown

by inourtownofpanem



Category: Newsflesh Trilogy - Mira Grant
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-03-11 20:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13532175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inourtownofpanem/pseuds/inourtownofpanem
Summary: Mia Fernandez was an Irwin and proud of it. She'd been out in the field since the age of fifteen and had earned quite a reputation along the way; she became known as the girl who never missed and a fairly popular person to watch when she was out in the field. Four years after first stepping out onto the field, her reputation remained and she became infamous across various media outlets, even earning her offers to join up with various other teams and sites across the country.But there was only one team she ever wanted to join; she wanted to be part of the Mason's elite group in California. If you got with them, you're basically set for life.After dreaming of being part of their team for so many years, Mia finally gets a chance. She's hired as the Mason's personal bodyguard, which she happily accepted. She moved her entire life from Ashwood, Oklahoma to Berkeley, California to where the Masons were based. It was a stretch, but she wanted to do it and she'd do anything to make it work.But almost as soon as she arrived, she knew nothing would be as easy as she originally thought they would be.





	1. Mia

_ **PART ONE** _

**_FEED_ **

"Did you hear about the rose that grew

from a crack in the concrete?

Proving nature's law is wrong it

learned to walk with out having feet.

Funny it seems, but by keeping it's dreams,

it learned to breathe fresh air.

Long live the rose that grew from concrete

when no one else ever cared."

* * *

_The worst feeling in the world is not knowing that you have no more bullets or no more weapons to use, it's the feeling that you know that your time is up, and you have to make peace with your dead in those last few seconds. At least, that's what people who have been through that have told me. I don't know what that really feels like and perhaps I never will. Perhaps I'll be one of the lucky ones to not have to face that problem of almost dying. If my reputation of being "the girl who never misses" is any indication of my future, we may never see me in that position._

**\- Taken from** _**We Are Not What You Think We Are,** _

**the blog of Mia Fernandez, April 14, 2039**

I lounged on the roof of my trusty jeep, a lukewarm beer in one hand and my pistol in the other, my stereo blasting Daft Punk as loud as my jeep's stereo would go. Hey, if people were watching, they might as well be entertained with some decent before the rising music. Drinking on the job wasn't usually allowed but that was a conversation I would be having after I returned to the office. Besides, the viewers  _ **loved**_  me, don't really know why since I considered myself rather boring to watch but they tuned in in their thousands every time I went out.

They would get what they wanted; a teenage girl in a vest and shorts with a beer or two, kicking some zombie ass. What wasn't to love? Girls loved it because fuck yeah; girl power. Guys loved it for well, you know. Tits and ass was all they cared about and boy, did I deliver.

From the horizon, I saw a group of zombies shuffling towards me; from what I could see, I guessed there was around fifteen of them. Finally, I might get some action today. I wasn't in any rush, so I finished my beer, throwing the bottle in front of me and watched it smash into a million tiny pieces on the road in front of me. I slid off the roof of my jeep, my feet landing on the uneven pathway.

The song changed to the most ironic song that could play, an old classic of Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit. An obvious choice to go with while killing the undead but the real ironic side comes with my age – being in my late teens meant playing a lot of music that revolved around songs about teenagers or had teenagers in the title.

I'm sure a lot of the older generation of men who watched appreciated the grunge music that frequently popped up in my stereo. The idea that men who were old enough to be my father watched me was unsettling at first, but it was one of the things I had to get used to. Being an Irwin; you had to be the face of your brand and give people something to root for. It was like one of those books I read when I was still in training; The Hunger Games, it was called. I won't go into detail about what the book was about but being an Irwin sometimes reminded me that my life was sort of a Hunger Game. I played a dangerous game every time I stepped out onto the field and if I made one small mistake, I would quench someone's hunger.

"Mia, turn that damn music off and focus! It's bad enough you've been drinking!" the voice in my ear sounded irritated and slightly panicked – a stark contrast to my calm and collected self.

I bit back a laugh as I stretched out my muscles and cracked my knuckles – a bad habit I'd picked up over the years, but it helped me get into the zone. "That would be a negative, Sparky. Gotta keep those viewers happy, plus, this song is a classic – don't know why you're complaining."

Sparky was my technical boss, but he acted more like my dad rather than my boss most of the time; always making sure I was eating properly, I got a decent amount of sleep and heavily opposed of my drinking – while I was out in the field and in general.

I never really got to know my real parents; both of them died when I was two and I was placed in foster care soon after. Funnily enough, the zombies didn't get them – it was a car accident. I was in the backseat and asleep when my parent's car collided with another head-on. Funnily enough, the car seat my mom had placed me in – the one that I hated and threw tantrums about whenever I was placed in – was the only thing that saved my life. Memories of them and that night are fuzzy, like a dream, sometimes I'm convinced they were just a dream. But the only things that reminded me that they were real were a couple of photographs and a necklace that once belonged to my mother which I wore almost every day.

Before you start to weep for me; I don't miss them. You don't miss what you never really had. I don't really miss any of the foster families I had either, as soon as they found out their foster daughter wanted to be an Irwin at the age of twelve, it was out on the streets for little Mia.

Once that came around, I started looking for anyone who would want to train an Irwin – or at least give a twelve-year-old a job so she could earn some money to get herself out of the town. That was when I met Sparky – real name; Louis Palmer, editor and chief of After The Rising, a small site that's only claim to fame was being one of the only sites operating in Oklahoma at the time.

Sparky found me going through his trash, hoping to find some food but found nothing. He was pissed off at first, but when he realised that I was just trying to survive, he felt bad for me – even when I told him to shove his sympathy up his ass.

I told him I wanted to be an Irwin, but nobody wanted to train a twelve-year-old girl who lived on the streets, especially one as foul mouthed as I was. Somehow, Sparky decided that he wanted me on his team – he saw that I had balls and I wasn't afraid to get what I wanted so he took me on.

Later on, I'd asked him why he did that. He'd answered that he'd always wanted a daughter, and when his wife left him, he put his whole life into the site, so I supposedly filled the void where his wife and imaginary kid would've been.

Long story short, I owe Sparky my life and he basically owes me his.

"You're going to get yourself killed – I mean it this time!" Sparky shouted into my earpiece, the panic clear in his voice as he furiously typed into his computer. I didn't blame him for getting pissed off, I was known for disobeying rules and doing something dumb while out on the field. Sparky knew this too well and scare tactics didn't do much damage anymore, so he would just have to wait until something went wrong for me to stop with the bullshit and actually pay attention to what was happening in front of me.

I shut out Sparky's voice, knowing that it would only distract me and picked up the hunting rifle that was on the front seat, turning down my music a little. The zombies were getting closer and I could hear their groans and the shuffling of their feet and I knew I had less than thirty seconds before I needed to start firing.

I wasn't worried. Yet. Worrying only distracted you from the job and distraction meant death. Distraction was not an option, and neither was death. Fine by me.

I checked my gun quickly before I got into position a few meters in front of my jeep, facing the zombies head-on and began firing.

Whenever I fired a gun, my heart stopped. No matter how many years I had fired a gun, or how many times I had done it; I always had the same reaction. My heart would just stop, and I felt powerful for the only time in my life. I missed that feeling every time I was at the office and I had to write up reports or had nothing planned for the day.

There wasn't a better feeling than firing a gun at a zombie. Not sex, not love but the feeling that I was in control and firing a gun at something.

Before the rising, that would've been a sign I was an anti-social psychopath who was destined to shoot up a high school. I probably would've been arrested for even admitting those thoughts and feelings and thrown in jail before I even had a chance to justify myself.

Thank god for the rising, am I right?

The last of the infected was in front of me now, the rest of the group laid in almost perfect sequence on the ground, one bullet in the centre of their foreheads. Hey, when they said I never missed, they weren't joking. I had thought about saying something to the zombie before I killed him, but I couldn't think of anything notable enough in that time.

And besides, I was getting bored and I wanted to get home and spend the rest of my day in bed and not have to worry about anything. Well, after I'd get an earful from Sparky about drinking on the job and generally being a stupid idiot with everything I do.

I rolled my eyes, pulling the trigger and the zombie fell to the floor mere millimetres from my boots. I looked at his body for a moment before I rested my rifle over my shoulder and made my way back to my jeep, throwing the rifle inside before moving back to the roof the grab my pistol that I had left up there, throwing that inside with the rifle before climbing inside and slamming the door after me.

I sat in the jeep for a good few minutes, the stereo still playing pre-rising music that I still hadn't turned off. Instead of playing some loud rock song, it was instead playing a ballad where a girl was singing about wanting her lover to stay.

I frowned and turned off my stereo before I did something stupid – like cry. I  _ **never**_  cry. Well, that's a lie. I cry a lot but not in front of people. After all the years of killing zombies, it does take a toll on people's mental health. The only way I get through it is to remind myself that they're no longer people and that my job was to exterminate them.

But I was still killing people and once the feeling of being unstoppable and powerful was gone and I'd killed all of them, the reality of what I've just done hits me.

I dove my hand into the glove compartment to grab a blood test and frantically opened it and pressed my finger down on the sharp and sterile needle. I placed the blood test on the seat beside me, not looking at it as it ran the test. I never looked at the test anymore. If you've been out in the field for as long as I have, you learn to never look at the test directly until its finished.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the lights flash from green to red, back to green then back to red before finally remaining on green, meaning that I was clean. I dove my hand back into the glove compartment and brought out a decontamination bag and threw the kit inside before sealing it and placing it back on the passenger's seat.

No matter how numb I felt, protocol still had to happen.

I strapped in before I turned the keys in the ignition and drove off back home, my eyes focused only on the empty road ahead of me.

"Mia, are you okay?" Sparky's voice came through my ear and gave me a slight sense of comfort but not enough for me to be "okay". I'd probably need decades of therapy to be "okay".

"I'm fine," I replied sharply. "Just on my way back now."

"You don't have to put up the strong front with me, Mia. I've turned the cameras off so it's just you and me now and if you wanna talk-"

"I said that I'm fine." I snapped, my grip on the steering wheel growing tighter, so tight that I was afraid that I might break it. "Just drop it, Louis."

I only ever used his real name if we were in important situations or if I was annoyed at him and wanted him to shut up. He seemed to have got the message fairly quickly and dropped the subject of how I was feeling and started another conversation. "You have an email in your inbox, by the way. Arrived a couple of hours ago, while you were in the field."

My eyebrow raised a little, my interest slowly piquing. "From who?" I asked.

"It's from," he paused for a moment and I could tell he was going through things on one of the many devices he had on him. "The Mason's?"

My heart skipped a beat and I almost stopped the car completely, just in shock. " _ **The**_  Mason's?"

"Are there any other Mason's?" I could tell he was smiling just by the tone of his voice, but I didn't mind that.

"Holy shit." I whispered, unable to stop my smile from spreading across my face, all feelings of sadness gone. "What does it say?"

"Holy shit indeed, young Padawan." Sparky joked, chuckling a little at his little joke. Before I had a chance to tell him off for using dated references from before I was born, he spoke up again. "From what it says, they like you a lot and they've seen a few of your clips and they want to offer you a job with them."

I stopped the car then, the tyres screeching to a halt as I did. "Wait,  _ **what**_? Did I just hear you correctly or am I losing my shit, Sparky? Did you just say they want me to work  _ **with**_  them?" I adjusted myself in my seat, my heart hammering inside my chest.

"You did hear me correctly, Mia. They want you on their team; to be their bodyguard to be exact."

My excitement dwindled a little at that – their  _bodyguard_? Why the hell do they need protecting?

Almost right on cue, Sparky spoke up again to answer my unspoken question.

"When they go out in the field, they usually just want more people around to give them a better heads up for when they're in deep shit. So, a member of their team found you and well, here we are."

I sat there for a few moments, thinking over everything Sparky had just said. If I took this job, it would mean the end of my current one – right? No more streaming, no more going out into the field solo and playing loud music whenever I wanted. No more Sparky to tell me off.

_**Did I really want this?** _

"You okay over there?" Sparky's voice brought me back to the situation at hand, causing my head to snap forwards, the bones in my neck cracking as I did.

"Just dandy." I sighed, sinking down in my seat a little.

"Listen, kiddo, I know it's not exactly what you were expecting but this is a really big opportunity for you. I know you don't want to hear it but where you are right now is a dead-end site in a dead-end town with no place to go if it goes down; this is your chance for something bigger. And besides, how long have you been telling me how you want to be part of the Masons site?"

"At least two years, Sparky."

"Exactly. So, it's all up to you in the end, but I think you should take this job. I won't reply to the email until you get back and we talk properly about your future; think about it on the way home, okay? Drive safely."

I smiled a little, sitting up straighter in my seat. "Okay, Sparky. I'll see you back at the office – talk later." I removed the ear piece from my ear and sat there in my seat for a few minutes, debating my options in my head.

On one hand; I get to join the team of my dreams and finally get to meet the famous Masons and get to work with them on a personal level – rather than just as an expendable Irwin who thinks she's the shit and treats everyone around her like trash like some bloggers have described me as.

But on the other hand; I would have to leave the place I've called home for the past nineteen years of my life. I would have to pack up everything I could fit into a couple of suitcases and go to California on my own to work with people I'd never even formally talked to before.

But this was my  _ **dream**_. And I couldn't just turn them down because I was too afraid to take a chance and follow my heart. I had already known my decision, I had known all along; I was going to take that job and I was going to completely annihilate everyone – well, not literally. Figuratively.

I smirked to myself as I turned the stereo back on, blasting some pre-rising 90's grunge, mouthing aggressively along to the lyrics as I pressed down hard on the accelerator. With one hand on the steering wheel, I used the other to pull my hair out of the high ponytail I had kept it in to keep my almost elbow length hair out of my face. Having long hair wasn't exactly encouraged when working in the field, but honestly, I'd rather go down guns blazing with a horde of the undead than cut it off.

Too intense?

Probably.

Did I care?

Not really.

* * *

_**Note** _

And that is the first chapter done! I might have gotten a little carried away with it but oh well, I don't think the other chapters will be this long, but who knows. If there's a different spelling to certain words, I apologise, I'm English so a few words will be spelt in the English way – hopefully, you guys won't mind  _too_  much. But if it does bother you, just let me know and I'll go back and edit it.

So I finally got round to write a Newsflesh fanfiction so I hope you all enjoy! There will be a lot of spoilers in this story since I'll try to follow the events of the books as closely as possible while also putting my own twist on things to keep it interesting, although there is a slight AU twist to some of the first part but it does still follow the basic story line of the book; I hope you all enjoy once again! I'm pretty sure nobody will read this because the Newsflesh fandom is basically non-existent but here goes nothing.

Basically, how this will work is that I'll divide this book into three parts; part one being Feed, part two being Deadline and part three being Blackout. Just as a lil heads up for you guys.

Until next time;

Lorna.


	2. Shaun

_There probably isn't an Irwin on the planet that doesn't know about Mia Fernandez. If you don't know her name, the chances are you know what she looks like. Voted sexiest Irwin alive two years running and the youngest trainee Irwin ever at the age of twelve. You see, training to be an Irwin usually starts at around eighteen after you finish high school while Mia had already been out in the field for three years by that point. Rather a genius thing to do, all things considering._

_Looking at Mia, you'd think she would have no weaknesses but if you looked at her file and remember that she is human after all, you'd know that she has only one true weakness; her boss. Louis Palmer – whom she gave the loving nickname of Sparky somewhere along the line. If you didn't know that, it's not hard to believe that she doesn’t have any feelings or weaknesses at all. Hell, she didn't even flinch when her boyfriend died live on camera. She didn’t hesitate in putting a bullet in his brain when he was bitten._

_And now she’s going to be the fourth and final member of our team. From what I can tell, this is going to end one of two ways; one or all of us dying horribly or her doing her job and saving our asses while painting her nails._

_I’m hoping for the latter._

 

**\--- Taken from _Hail to the King_ ,**

**the blog of Shaun Mason, April 29, 2039**

 

I first became aware of the phenomenon that was Mia Fernandez three years ago, she’d already had a big following even then, but it wasn’t until Buffy showed George and I clips of Mia’s special and very specific skillset several months ago that I actually paid attention to her.

From watching her clips, and honestly, she was either the stupidest or the most insane Irwin I’d ever seen – perhaps a mixture of both. She’d always go out into the field alone with just cameras and a radio to tell her if the infected were around. Had to give her credit where it was due; she had some serious balls to do that. On top of that, she’d go out with no protective gear on. Decontamination must be one hell of a bitch for her.

Before we even considered to attempt to hire Mia, Buffy made sure to do a background check on her, searched everything we could to make sure that we would be hiring the right person and not an axe murderer.

Within twenty minutes, we discovered that Mia’s own father – Archie Fernandez – was an Irwin, one of the first ones. He didn’t blog much, only around fifty posts were ever found over an eight-year period that were officially made by him. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Mia’s mother – Isabelle Fernandez – had a few posts, too but they were mostly about family life and her ranting about how hard it was to raise a new-born when the father was almost always busy. There were some pictures of the happy family and a series of videos that included Mia’s first steps and birthdays.

From we could see, they really loved their daughter and were both completely devoted parents. Shame it had to all come to a bloody and gruesome end.

The last post we found was posted onto Archie’s blog on June 15, 2022;

_With deep regret and a heavy heart, I regret to inform all who follow this blog that Archie and his wife Isabelle passed away last night due to a car accident. It’s believed that the car Archie was driving hit another car head-on at dangerous speeds; Archie died on impact and Isabelle was pronounced dead at the scene after she managed to escape the wreck but died from her injures._

_Their beloved daughter Mia is safe and well; she was unharmed in the crash, thank god, and will soon be placed in foster care until we can find a more permanent home for her. Thank you for keeping us all in your prayers during this terrible time._

The most fucked up part of this whole discovery? Mia’s mom was only twenty-two when she died – that was what made us a little sick inside, knowing that she was around the same age as we were. We all decided not to mention our findings to Mia, all of us agreeing that pissing off or upsetting the latest member of our team this early on wouldn’t be the best idea.

After she accepted the job interview Buffy had arranged for her, we’d gotten word that Mia was driving to us instead of flying; which sounded like a dumb idea since it was an almost 26-hour car ride from her home in Oklahoma to Berkeley, but she insisted. She didn’t trust anyone to handle her luggage other than herself or her boss and she had a long history of not playing well with others when it came to flying or any kind of authority that wasn’t her boss. So, it seemed it was either her way, or the highway.

We agreed to meet at a local café a day or so before we were due to leave Berkley. Buffy would give her an impromptu interview, just to make sure she was right for the job before she’d be formally introduced to me and George – it was Buffy’s idea and I couldn’t lie, it was kind of a genius thing to do. Me and George were sitting at a table separate from Buffy, close enough to hear what was going on but far enough away to not make it obvious.

Word must’ve gotten out about her arrival because outside the café was swarming with paparazzi, most of them being men around my age. George glared at them through her glasses, rolling her eyes as she took a sip of her coke.

“If this is going to happen every time we step outside, she’s not gonna last long,” she muttered, placing the can back onto the table.

I looked between her and the large window behind her, making sure that Mia hadn’t arrived yet, sighing. “It won’t be like this all the time, people are just excited to see her. Think of her like the female version of me.”

“Yes, because one Shaun Mason isn’t enough, now we need one with a pair of tits and a problem with authority.”

I was about to answer her when the jeep I had seen over a hundred times over the past few weeks arrived just outside the café, causing the paparazzi to go into a frenzy. Their shouting almost becoming a deafening mixture of words – mostly consisting of “Mia” and “over here”.

I watched as the driver’s side door opened, and out stepped probably the most attractive woman I had ever laid eyes on. Sure, I had seen how attractive she was in her clips, but they didn’t do her actual beauty any justice. Dressed in a simple white t-shirt and faded blue jeans with a brown leather jacket, it was a change from her usual vest and shorts, but she made it look like the sexiest thing on the planet.

She barely had any chance to walk towards the front door of the café before the paparazzi swarmed around her like a school of hungry piranhas around fresh meat, barely giving her any chance to move on her own without having a microphone or a camera in shoved her face. She must’ve been panicked but she never let it show; that was one of the worst things you could do in front of them, let them see that you’re human and you have feelings. Once you do that, they move in for the kill and try everything they can to get a reaction out of you.

She removed her sunglasses and made direct eye contact with me for a split second, probably not realising who I was, a small smirk coming onto her lips before she turned her attention back to the paparazzi. “Boys, as much as I love and appreciate every single one of you; I have to love and leave you, I have a very important meeting to attend to.”

I could tell the paparazzi were a little disappointed, but they let her go, finally allowing her to walk inside. Once she closed the door, she took a breath before she walked up to Buffy’s table, a bright smile on her face as she offered a hand out towards Buffy. “Mia Fernandez, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Buffy placed the screen down on her laptop to shake Mia’s hand, her smile only growing. “Buffy Meissonier, I’m a massive fan.”

Mia’s smile got bigger once Buffy admitted she was a fan, which usually would make me or George uncomfortable, but she seemed to take it all in stride and accept it. The pair of them sat down, facing each other and pretty much completely oblivious to George and I being so close to them. Well, Mia was, Buffy knew full well we were there.

"Just off the bat, I have to say, Mia, you do have a rather unusual name.” Buffy said, opening her laptop once more to open up some files.

Mia shrugged, almost biting out a laugh. "My parents were Evil Dead fans; they were either going to name me Ashley or Mia, but they went with Mia because they thought it was unique... or something, I don't know. They died before I could ask them about it."

Buffy coughed awkwardly, nodding before she turned back to the files on her laptop in front of her to change the subject. "You've got quite the impressive resume here, Mia. On your own since the age of twelve, started in the field at the age of fifteen, became the youngest trainee Irwin in the country... you're more than qualified for this position. As explained in the email, we need you to be a bodyguard to the Masons and myself; your main priority will be to make sure that they're safe, be their shadow and don't get too involved."

Mia nodded, giving a slight salute. "Understood, ma’am.”

Buffy offered her hand back to Mia, smiling brightly as she stood up once more. “Welcome to the team, Mia.”

Mia stood up too, almost squealing with excitement as she shook Buffy’s hand vigorously. “Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me.”

I almost laughed at that. This girl was as hard as nails and could easily take down a zombie that was physically stronger and taller than she was, but there she was, acting like a small child waking up on their birthday and been told that they were going to get a puppy. It was almost adorable.

Buffy laughed softly as she watched Mia before she subtly raised her eyebrows towards George and I, indicating that it was time for us to formally meet Mia, now that she was officially part of our team.

I heard George sigh a little as she stood up, leaving her almost empty can of Coke on the table before turning towards the two girls and introducing herself to Mia, almost awkwardly. Mia greeted her with the same level of enthusiasm as she had when Buffy gave her the job, the smile and excited energy never leaving her for a single second.

Then it was my turn.

Mia turned her attention to me, her bright blue eyes fixated on mine. Any other guy would’ve looked away and blushed, but I knew what she was doing, hell, I did it myself – she was giving me the look usually saved for the reporters or fangirls. She probably wasn’t aware that she was doing it, but I wasn’t going to call her out for it – she was probably just excited.

I shook Mia’s hand, smiling back at her. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mia.”

I watched as Mia’s cheeks flushed a tiny amount, but she quickly hid it as her hand dropped back to her side. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Shaun. I’m excited for this opportunity to work with you, I’ve been sort of obsessed with your blog for years so getting to finally work along side you is kind of a dream come true.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little to myself to see Mia geek out a little, it was kind of a refreshing way to see a fan – rather than being told how attractive I was or how badly they wanted to marry me, Mia actually focused on the blog itself, not just the person behind it. “Well, I hope we live up to your expectations.”

Mia smiled, looking down at her feet as she did before looking back up to me. “Oh, trust me, you guys already have.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see George rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses. I could tell that she wasn’t impressed with the way Mia was acting but she didn’t say anything, knowing she’d probably say something after Mia left. If she’d even say anything at all.

Even if she didn’t directly say anything about Mia, I could tell that she wasn’t overly keen on Mia already. But then again, it takes a lot to impress George. Perhaps after seeing Mia out in the field would be enough to impress her, but even then, that would be a stretch.

**_~#~_ **

After our lunch meeting with Peter Ryman, Buffy and Mia almost sprinted out to the van and the truck, with me trailing behind. Despite only properly meeting less than twenty-four hours before hand, Mia and Buffy were practically best friends already, chatting excitedly about anything and everything while they were setting up cameras and the equipment in both our van and Mia’s jeep, they both seemed to understand the technical side of things while George and I had no idea what they were even trying to explain.

Mia's stereo was playing an interesting mixture of pre-rising songs – definitely from long before our parent's times – loud enough so we could hear it and enjoy it, but quiet enough to not draw the entire undead population that may be around to come over for an all you can eat buffet. As much as I hated to admit it, the girl had **_taste_** when it came to music. It was an almost confusing mess of hard rock from the 1970’s, depressingly danceable ballads from the 1980’s and incomprehensible grunge from the 1990’s. Yeah, definitely before our parent’s times.

I watched as Mia was playing around with some of the wires and engine parts on her beloved jeep, she was leaning over the engine far enough that I could clearly see the black panties she was wearing under her far too short skirt. I had to admit, it wasn't a bad view. George cleared her throat loudly, nudging my arm with her elbow to stop me from staring.

Mia clearly hadn’t noticed as she was still messing around with her jeep for a few more minutes before she stood up straight, placing down the hood of her jeep and securing it. She turned around, leaning against her car, an eyebrow raising as she smirked. “See something you like, Mason?”

I sighed, shaking my head to myself as I turned around towards Buffy and climbed into the van. **_This year is going to be one hell of a bitch._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m praying I didn’t butcher the perfection that is Shaun Mason in this. After this part, it’ll skip forward to 2040 so it’ll keep up with the book.
> 
> This was originally going to be chapter three, but since I had zero inspiration for the original chapter two, I decided to abandon it entirely and make this chapter two instead.
> 
> I don’t really like the ending of this chapter, but I really wanted to get it done since it was driving me crazy for so long.


End file.
